It has been almost six months since my last blog post.

A few quick points about my life now:

• The accusations previously mentioned were dropped due to my affable nature and well-researched argument (score).
• I have quit smoking after six years (another blog post to come)
• I am in my second semester of my senior year of collage (TERRIFYING)

I’m working a lot, teaching a lot and learning a lot.

My return is the result of a nagging voice in my head (and in my classrooms) that is insisting I keep writing, keep honing my skills, keep finding my voice– for the sake of my career, my discipline and my first love: writing.

I’m starting my job hunt now while I’m still in the protected college bubble, fueled with the desire to find work I actually enjoy rather than scrambling to put bread on the table and a roof over my head when the familial financial umbilical cord is finally severed. Resumes, cover letters, critiques, meetings, dinners, interviews, recommendations… It is as exciting as it is terrifying.

So whoever you are; friend, stranger, spam robot or prospective employer… This is me, and this is my next chapter.

“You have a beef regarding absence of signage and use of email. Students don’t do email so much. Still Mr. Butts is the real killer here.

More later.”

Tomorrow I fight the law.

On the subject of ridiculous holier-than-thou policies, please take heed this email turned blog post:

Hi Professor,

I’ve had my first run in with University’s disciplinary board. I remember you mentioned you had some involvement with the board as to drug policies, and I was wondering if there was anything you could suggest– don’t worry, I’m not in huge trouble and it wasn’t for anything illegal.

I was smoking a cigarette in the courtyard of the my student apartment building (where there are ashtrays at this very moment) and was approached by an RA who informed me not only could I not smoke in the courtyard, I had to be 25 feet from the building.
If you are unaware, there is absolutely nothing within a 25 foot radius of any University Village building save for a street, parking lots, and the rest of the UV buildings.
Unbeknownst to me, without asking for my card or even confirming I lived in the building, the RA appeared, advised me not to smoke indoors, asked for my name and left. Now I have a ‘notice to appear’ in my inbox. Apparently, notices as to smoking banned in all apartment rooms, hallways, and the courtyard were sent out via email some time ago. Allow me to reiterate: there are still ashtrays in the courtyard.
Also notably, in the 2010-2011 student handbook (Section 1213 Subpart B. a.3.: “a description of the health risks associated with the use of illicit drugs and the abuse of alcohol), there is nothing defining this university as a ‘smoke free’ campus.
While alcohol, marijuana, PCP, designer drugs an cocaine are mentioned, there is no mention of cigarettes save for this sentence pertaining to marijuana use: “There are more known cancer-causing agents in marijuana smoke than in cigarette smoke. In fact, because marijuana smokers try to hold the smoke in their lungs as long as possible, one marijuana cigarette can be as damaging to the lungs as four tobacco cigarettes.” which sounds suspiciously like a direct quote from Reefer Madness.
This rule in addition to the additional $50 for smokers on University health insurance is sort of making my blood boil. Sure, smoking isn’t good for you, but it is not illegal. Moreover, this rule lacks official documentation and I think smoking near an entrance to a building will put more students at risk of second hand smoke than sitting in a courtyard at least 25 feet from all student apartment doors. Am I in the right to take a stand on this?

Let me know what you think,
H

“Ever since I was a toddler– diapered, fearless and unexpectedly verbose– my mother was convinced that I talked so much to anyone and everyone I met there had to be a career in it. Nearly two decades later I’ve discovered my mother was (more or less) correct, and chose PR as my major. Initially I had the idea almost every fledgling PR student has; that I was going to be like Samantha from Sex and the City—minus the frequent sexual liaisons—and have a career in entertainment or fashion, rubbing Versace-clad shoulders with the famous, wealthy and culturally influential. This summer was the test run for that life. So I moved into shoebox-sized dorm in New York City and interned with a PR firm specializing in fashion, entertainment and luxury lifestyle. In addition, however, I also interned with a nonprofit consulting PR firm, and I worked to write up releases and grant documents for a nonprofit called Café.Soulfood.

About a month into the summer, I spent an evening volunteering with at an awards dinner for Intersections International, an organization that promotes inter-religious understanding, tolerance of homosexuals in the Christian church, and has created the Iraqi Voices Amplification Project. Needless to say I found myself truly inspired. My work with Café.Soulfood also filled me with gratification and pride. The next morning, sitting in the bubblegum pink PR office, sending yet another pitch email about why a particular overpriced item was a must-have accessory for July 4th, I realized something was missing, and that a life in the field of PR fashion was not as satisfying or interesting as I had anticipated.

Although the world of nonprofits would seem more up my alley at this time, it is only one component of my ideal. My second major is Anthropology, so in addition to learning how to communicate with people, I am also learning about the development of man and modern society, and the importance of intercultural understanding in a world being made increasingly smaller by television and the internet. Ideally, I would find some work complemented by my knowledge in both fields, and my love of travel.  Thus, I believe work in the tourist/travel book industry in some way that I could help others would be ideal.”

So what do I do. Do I take my graduation money and dip off to some exotic location with maybe a friend or two, wait for that moment I find a wildly successful mentor with a deep tan and wise teachings? Do I even have a resume-d leg to stand on as far as gainful employment ANYWHERE overseas (with the exception of my quasi-native Switzerland that is) goes? I only speak one language. I’m not pouncing to fight my way through a jungle, I want to travel and talk and learn but without real application to my learning– I can barely toy with the idea of writing a book, it’s just so cliche– I’m just floating. Of course, 21 is an acceptable age to float, indeed likely the best age.

I wish success was only a matter of hard work.

So… when did it get to be August?

I have to say, this has been a very formative summer. Working hard but playing ten times harder, exhausting myself sitting on a couch uptown and losing my way on my own block downtown. Weekends at beloved friends’ houses and watching drastic problems get solved magically.

It has made me cynical because I have met some of the most impressive, intelligent people with dreams as progressive as their hearts and yet with all that effort Lady Luck can still pass them over. I have seen inner city poverty at a much closer range than I would in my hometown, and discovered that instead of working in the world of the ‘haves’ where the tiny voice inside my head squeals “What are you doing for society?”, I can work for and improve the lives of the ‘have-nots’ by doing what I love. I haven’t been bored once in 3 months and I have traded any gaping void of doubt for assertion of my individuality and strength. I’ve experienced the repercussions of fearlessness and surprise at my own actions has forced me to switch on a sense of humor about myself and an acceptance that while I might not always have it together, at least I haven’t lost it yet. The future is open wide.

If I could hug this whole city in my arms at once I would.

Maybe next summer I’ll be in India but for now- New York City, I think I’m in love with you.

Dear Men of NYC Who Stand On Corners and Yell Objectifying Comments at Unsuspecting Women Walking Down The Street:

SHUT. UP.

Love,

Weiss

(3) The Dance Floor Surprise Grind

(Even Diddy has problems sometimes)

We’re women– we’ve all been there. You’re in a bar/club and you’re two-stepping innocently with your ladies, half chatting half moving your arms awkwardly while wondering why the DJ has no musical taste other than top 40. And then it happens.

Suddenly a pair of hands appear at your hips a mysterious visitor trying to match the motion of your two step by pushing his front side into your backside. Oh hooray. (By the way– when in the world did someone send out the memo that this was socially acceptable?)

This can go one of two ways.

One: it is awesome because the guy  behind you looks like Brad Pitt and is wearing a Gucci watch.

Two: It’s just some awkward and likely-underage/too-old kid/guy with a wispy mustache and no sense of rhythm.

(ps the former almost never happens.)

First of all: guys– WHY DO YOU DO THIS!? It is not fun to have a faceless stranger start pushing their private parts into my personal bubble. Like come on, it may have been acceptable at your high school dance because everyone knew each other, but now it’s just plain rude. If you want to dance with me, approach me from the front so I have an opportunity to say no politely instead of making that desperate look at my girlfriends asking someone to help me get this creeper out from under my tailbone.

HOW TO DIFFUSE THIS SITUATION IF IT HAPPENS TO YOU: Become a dance machine.

Yeeeah!

It’s right ladies. You’re sexy and to prove to himself that he is man enough to remain the faceless stranger grinding on you, he has to keep up with you. So… commence raging. Let your arms flail and your head bang, your hair swing and your butt shake so he’ll be so confused he has to step back. And when he does, put that girlfriend who wouldn’t help you in his way so she can suffer instead. Then go get yourself a drink because you’ve earned it.

(2) Long elevator rides with strangers.

We’ve all been there. You wait with a group of people in the lobby for the elevator to get to you and when it FINALLY does you realize you don’t have your iPod and you’re about to be enclosed in a small, rapidly ascending/descending room with about 8 strangers. THEN you realize you’re on the 17th floor and everyone in the elevator is heading to some short-term destination. (Hopefully it’s not one of those jerks who take the elevator to the second floor.  God I hate those people) What are you supposed to do? Do you stand and look straight ahead without looking at anyone? Do you fidget? Do you pretend to be on your phone even though everyone knows you’re not getting service?

My answer: SMASH THE ICE. Start a conversation. A quasi-awkward inflection on “Soooo… how’s everyone’s day going?” almost always works, particularly if you are a small and adorable female, or Michael Cera. SOMEONE will answer you, and at least one person will laugh, even if it’s just to make you feel better.You might make a new friend.  But by that time you have made your contribution and it is no longer your concern to feel awkward. Alight at your destination and smile because you are awesome.

(3) You interrupt a Bear’s sleeping schedule.

Run. As fast as you can.

Russel Brand was voted number 1 on ‘Britain’s Most Eccentric’… also on the list were Boy George and Florence Welch of Florence and the Machine.

Good for you, guys. But what really killed me was the quote on the subject matter.

“First Direct’s Head of Marketing Paul Say said: “Quirky celebs with a liberal attitude – typified by Russell Brand – have helped change the public’s view of what being eccentric means. With as many as 32 million Brits – 65 per cent – proudly admitting to quirky characteristics, it seems the nation is now overflowing with colourful eccentricity.”

…65% of Britain is eccentric. Who would have thought!?

DUDE! Check out what I saw from my friend’s window today:

WE DON'T NEED NO WATA

(we actually need flame retardant…)

Evidently there was some sort of fire at a place near Lex ave. I heard sirens and went to the window and immediately had one of those ‘OH MY GOD YOU DON’T SEE THIS EVERY DAY!’ moments. I was waiting for some frantic mother to throw her infant out onto a trampoline held by a bunch of sooty, sweaty men in uniform… but I was disappointed. We watched as about ten fire trucks rushed to the scene to… kind of chill.

The whole scene lasted about a half an hour. From the looks of things the fire kind of burned itself out. Although we saw firemen on the roof, no one was moving in much of a rush. But honestly I was about to run downstairs with a boombox and start a disco in all the flashing lights.

Well… I don’t even have a boom box… but something about dancing around a pair of iPod speakers just feels so anticlimactic.

Just think twice before leaving the stove on while you smoke a cigarette on a bed covered in matches next to your hairspray, nail polish remover and spare gallon of gasoline, kids. Safety first.

I love sneaking around this city with a camera phone.

Hefeweissen!

Although this probably doesn’t excite anyone but me, i stumbled upon some Hefe on my bar journeys… served just like they did in Olde Deutscheland. Kind of makes me nostalgic (sniff)

A vandalized Bushmills advertisement!

I really like this ad campaign, to be honest… but it’s basically an assortment of bromancers all touching each other in 100% straight ways and looking relatively hip and fantastic. Some show unlikely pairs of close bros, who were no doubt broskis since they left the non-bro womb. A real exposure of wasted WASP bro mentality. Viva la white boy.

A scenic view near my friend’s place in Long Island! Loverly…

CONFUSING BEAR!

Thug love

This is the type of shirt you would wear while actively seeking an intervention from the NYPD. This is the kind of shirt I would put on someone while they’re passed out, and refuse them access to a mirror until we’ve spent at least 2 hours walking around functional society. Then I would laugh at them while they wonder about all the shocked/impressed and/or threatening looks they’d receive while wearing it.

Needless to say I almost bought it.

This. Woman. Is. AWESOME!

I saw this lady on my way to work and snuck a snapshot while pretending to be texting/crossing the street.

The chalk board at a bar right near my place… It’s true though, isn’t it?